After dying on the day I was born – two months ahead of the natural order of things – I retained this desire not to die straight away.
I became familiar with vast, empty spaces at an early age; I rode my donkey until I could gallop faster than him. I trampled every plant in the forest, I killed hundreds of creatures and hundreds of people, I built kingdoms, and then I got beaten up at school because I was a big lad.
Sometimes all we share with another person is a mutual lack of understanding. And that’s enough for them.
Through my parents’ expectations, I took up horse riding, drama and equestrian vaulting. When I realised that nothing was really being forced on me, and that I was still allowed my cereal bar, I got off the horse and carried on storing up triglycerides.
I do acrobatics because nobody asked me to and because it didn’t look like a sure thing.
So, out of natural empathy, I had to help myself.
After spending fifteen years convincing myself that I had no interest in the state education system, I applied
to ENACR, where I discovered dance, which opened up a sensory dimension to movement that is now an integral part of my practice. I worked hard to develop a dynamic style, to take people by surprise, given my tall stature. I enjoy oscillating between bursts of energy and moments of relaxation.
At the CNAC, I developed a style closer to the ground, inspired by breakdancing, which retains an acrobatic element and has enabled me to bring greater coherence to my practice. I am deeply influenced by the work of Peeping Tom, which blends dance and theatre.
I’ve also been involved in rap and beatmaking for the past ten years or so, driven by an irresistible need to tell stories and by the body, which sometimes lacks the words to express itself. I’m trying to find a way to bring these passions together on stage; for now, they’re developing in parallel. (Album ‘Sauce qui peut’ available on all platforms)
Sometimes all we share with another person is a mutual lack of understanding. But that can change.